Review: Rocky Balboa -- Scott's Take

A lifelong Philadelphian discussing the Rocky flicks is sort of like a devoted parent dealing with a bunch of very different children: You love 'em all for what they are, but you can see their shortcomings as clear as day. The first-born Balboa (1976) is truly an offspring to be proud of: warm, sincere and truly admirable. The second son (1979) showed up and did all he could to replicate his big brother's success, but managed only to wimp out at the last minute and take the easy way out. The third brother (1982) turned out to be a pompous blowhard and the fourth one (1985) ended up being a cynical jerk ... the less said about that fifth Rocko sibling (1990) the better, mainly because that kid was a huge mistake from the word go.

And now, 16 years after the last breach birth, proud papa Sylvester Stallone has procreated one more time. The result is Rocky Balboa, and if this sixth chapter isn't the finest offering since the original Rocky, well, it sure as hell is the most heartfelt, melancholy and contemplative. Basically, those who go in expecting a non-stop slug-fest may well walk away underwhelmed -- whereas those who approach the Rocky Balboa character as a modern-day folk hero may find themselves brushing a few stray teardrops from their cheeks.

Yes, Rocky is (after much discussion, delay and fanboy debate) back in the multiplexes, and it was with equal parts excitement and dismay that I ventured into the sixth and final chapter of the pugilist's long-running saga. I've been right there alongside Rocko from the very beginning -- from the bittersweet result of his very first brawl, through his colorful (yet fairly mindless) exploits with Apollo Creed, Clubber Lang, Ivan Drago and Tommy Gunn, and now here: sitting next to Balboa as he weeps over the grave of a now-deceased Adrian, desperately clinging to some semblance of self-respect as he runs a dinky little restaurant, content to simply dole out the tired old war stories for an unending array of fame-seekers, autograph hounds and fisticuff fans.

Fairly glum, but apparently resigned to spending his autumn years in semi-anonymity, Rocky earns a shot of emotional adrenalin after ESPN stages a computer-generated "what if?" boxing match: At his best, could the old-school Rocky Balboa compete in the ring with current mega-champ Mason "The Line" Dixon? It's a question juicy enough to warrant the extra attention from ESPN, and so Rocko starts to wonder if, indeed, there's any gas left in his tank. After sharing the news with his semi-estranged son and his amusingly short-tempered brother-in-law, Rocky begins his training ... yet again. And when Dixon's managers catch wind of the news, well, you know where the story is headed by this point: a big, sweaty, emotional boxing display in Act III, one that'll seem pretty darn familiar to those fans who've hung around long enough to enjoy the whole series.

To his credit, (writer/director) Stallone approaches his fifth Rocky sequel with an appreciable sense of sobriety, sweetness and sadness. (Almost to the point of overkill, albeit only in a few isolated scenes.) Sequences of Rocky struggling with the absence of his beloved wife, the alienation between he and his son, and of the quiet desperation that comes with "growing old and giving up" -- Rocky Balboa's first act is laden with really heavy moments, most of which work quite well. Granted, Bill Conti's plinkity-plink piano score is used and overused to the point of distraction, but for the most part the "emotional stuff" in Rocky Balboa is impressively raw and surprisingly effective.

Unfortunately after a strong (and very long) Act I, Rocky Balboa speeds right into an Act III, and the absence of a meaty mid-section leaves the flick feeling too short, too speedy, and kind of in an odd hurry to hit the finish line. While the characters are all given their fair share of "set-up," they're given practically nothing to do once Rocky's decision to fight has been made. Points due to Stallone for allowing the Dixon character to be well-shaded and conflicted, as opposed to creating yet another cartoon cut-out for the Italian Stallion to bash upon ... but Dixon's semi-side-story is given some seriously short shrift as well. And for all his undeniably colorful moments of comic relief, Burt Young's "Paulie" character is still left twisting in the wind like any old caricature. (Young threatens to steal the whole darn movie, as a matter of fact.)

So yeah: I'd probably agree that Rocky Balboa is the best entry since the first one -- but we're not exactly placing it up against any tough competition, now are we? Stallone's still a better writer than he is a director, but he's also a better actor than most people give him credit for. The guy may have kick-started this Rocky 6 as just another important piece of revenue, but I'm still fairly impressed with the route he took this way around. Rocky Balboa might not win over a whole bunch of new converts, but if you've grown up with the character -- and you still actually care what happens to the big lug -- I suspect you'll have a pretty good time with his latest exploits. It's got the heart and soul of the original Rocky; it's simply not as good a movie.